SEPTEMBER 13th, 1991, SEATTLE, WA
FRIDAY ROLLED AROUND promptly, which also rang in the event of Nirvana's release party for their upcoming album. Only naturally would it fall on a Friday the thirteenth. When Dave had gently shaken Reagan awake that morning, reminding her that they had to get ready, she'd felt caught in the middle of a very fantasy-like daze.
She was standing in front of the mirror, fidgeting with her bangs and attempting to get them to lay flat in Dave's bathroom when he appeared behind her, donning a black t-shirt with the words "Alternative Radio" emblazoned over the left breast.
"Ready?" he asked eagerly. She looked herself over steadily, wondering how in the world she was supposed to know how to dress for a record release party. Her hair was down and she wore no makeup. Once again, she and Dave were dressed similarly — jeans and a t-shirt. How typical of them both.
"Yeah," she answered. "Uhm, what is Shelli wearing?"
"I'm not sure. You look great though," Dave beamed, never one to allow the girl he loved to feel bad about her own looks. He linked his arm around her waist and lead her out of the bathroom, practically skipping along the way. He'd been riding on cloud nine since they had woken up. If anything, he deserved to be in that special place, at least until the high of triumph wore off, if it ever actually would. He was attending his own album release party with his soon-to-be wife. That was enough reason to excite just about anyone.
"You know, I forget sometimes that you do this for a living," Reagan said as Dave locked the apartment door behind them and they stepped out into the brisk September chill. A light gust of wind rolled through the air, causing her to brace herself against the sensation.
"What do you mean?"
"I dunno.' It's just like, one night we're sitting on your couch eating takeout and now we're off to a release party for the album that you drummed on. It's a little weird. But a good weird, I think."
Reagan was being entirely honest with Dave as she tried to explain her bewildered perception over his success. It was easy to forget that he led a separate life in his band behind a drum kit when she was so used to doing mundane things with him. And on top of that, she'd never been to any kind of release party for anything. All the musicians that she'd ever known or been involved with had never made it out of the underground venues frequented by punk bands.
"You want to know something really crazy?" Dave began, taking her hand as they walked down the stairs of the building. "You could have easily been in my place right now after that one night when you played for the band."
Reagan snorted out an amused laugh. "Me? No way. I was never an option. I was just filling in. How many times have we been through this?"
"How many times have we been through that you're a great drummer, you mean?"
"You're just buttering me up right now."
They kicked off their short drive into the city and met up with Kurt and Krist at the KXRX radio station where Nirvana was set to begin a series of radio interviews before the real party began. Reagan was relieved when she saw Shelli's crop of jet black hair poke out from behind Krist's tall frame.
"Here comes the bride . . ." Krist belted out in a deep voice, singing goofily out of the tune as Reagan exited Dave's car.
She smiled bashfully and aimed to sock Krist in the shoulder, though their height difference resulted in her weak right-hook knocking into his gangly elbow.
"A little birdie told me that you two are soon to be wed," Krist grinned. "And you've procreated too! Congratulations!"
Shelli pushed past Krist with a joyful squeal and enveloped Reagan into a hug. "I'm so happy for you," she gushed. "You'll love the married life. And you're going to make a great mom."
"Thanks," Reagan said demurely. Instead of agreeing right off the bat with Shelli, she could only hope that her friend was right about that very last part.
"Congratulations," Kurt piped in quietly. He flicked a burnt-out cigarette to the ground and offered Reagan a wan smile. There were bags beneath his eyes, telling of what must have been a sleepless night for him.
"Thanks Kurt." She returned the smile and nudged his hand against hers. Besides having to adjust to the wickedness of her own nerves, it was nice to be supported, especially by the people that she and Dave loved.
Reagan and Shelli were invited into the radio station to hear the band's interview take place. Reagan felt mildly awkward as they all piled into the tiny talk show room, taking seats in chairs surrounding a desk jumbled by microphones and wires. The sound of Nirvana's recently released single, the song Dave had discussed with Reagan over the phone all those months ago, played overhead. "Smells Like Teen Spirit," it was called. So far, it appeared to have been a hit with anyone and everyone who listened to it. The DJ's vying for the band's attention seemed to think so, anyways.
She kept quiet as the radio hosts dove right into conversation with the band, paying special attention to Kurt, who slouched in his seat and kept his face partially obscured by locks of stringy blonde hair. For the majority of the time, Krist and Dave remained content to only nod and smile instead of answering direct questions, but if Dave was bothered by it he did not make it obvious. Every time Reagan caught his eye from the corner of the room, he'd wink at her.
A circuit of continuous radio interviews surged on throughout the day. Almost every DJ was enamored by the release of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and what it meant for the rest of the awaited album. They relentlessly gouged for answers about the song and the meaning behind its discombobulated lyrics. The song was good, but Reagan didn't quite understand all the hype. She thought it was obvious that the band had better songs on their track list and it appeared that Dave and Krist, and especially Kurt, were beginning to think the same thing.
After several more interviews, Kurt grew annoyed and announced that he was staying in the car for the last two sessions of the day. He appeared even more tired than he had in the early morning, his face a dead giveaway of his irritated state. Feeling bad for him, as well as just as plain tired herself, Reagan said she would stay in the car with him.
"You sure babe?" Dave asked, leaning in past the car's ajar door as Reagan tucked one leg under the other in the backseat.
"Yeah, I'm good. I'm saving my energy for the actual party later on."
Dave's eyes flickered briefly to Kurt, who was reclined in the passenger seat and wrapping a loose thread of fabric from his flannel around his finger until it turned purple. Kurt didn't look back at him.
"Okay," Dave said. "Be on your best behavior."
The comment seemed strangely directed at Kurt, but Reagan glossed over it and waved Dave goodbye as he slammed the car door shut and walked inside the building with Krist and Shelli. An immediate silence ensued in the car.
Figuring that Kurt was too tired to make small talk, Reagan leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She was debating how long of a nap she could squeeze in before they all returned when Kurt's voice jolted her out of her meditative state.
"I can't believe you're going to have a baby."
She jerked upright in her seat, looking ahead at where Kurt sat. He hadn't turned around to face her and still appeared to be preoccupied with the string around his finger, unwrapping and wrapping it repeatedly.
"Why is that so hard to believe?" she asked.
"Because. You just met Dave a year ago. And now you're having his baby."
A shadow of indignation blanketed Reagan's mood as she took in Kurt's comment. She crossed her arms and gritted her teeth, annoyed that he had even thought to say such a thing to her in the first place.
"And how is that a bad thing?" she demanded, unable to tame the stinging bite in her voice.
"It's not. It's just kind of crazy how things worked out."
"I'm happy with how they worked out. Everything worked out perfectly. It's great," she said hotly.
Kurt laughed dryly. "I'm not saying they didn't. You should be thanking me, really. You and Dave would have never met in the first place if it weren't for me."
"You're right about that," Reagan said, softening her tone. "I guess none of this would have ever happened if you hadn't asked me to drum for you guys that night."
Kurt abandoned the thread of fabric he was toying with for a lighter, flicking it on and off and staring intently at the quivering flame. "You're welcome."
Chalking Kurt's sulky disposition up to pure exhaustion, Reagan relaxed back into her seat and looked out the window. She could see fragments of the Seattle skyline ahead and in the far distance, the Space Needle. This was really her home now. How bizarre.
It wasn't strange to see Kurt's mood falter, especially under the circumstances that he was enduring. Reagan had been present for every interview so far that day and it was clear that Kurt was a bright red target for anyone clamoring to know even the slightest detail about Nirvana. She sensed that he was wounded over his true vision of the band being skimmed over. In a complicated way, they'd been reduced to something more mainstream than she guessed he'd ever wanted. He was only finding out the hard way.
And the cherry on top of it all was that Kurt, unlike anyone else that Reagan knew, seemed to require at least a minimum of fourteen hours of sleep a day.
"Are you scared to bring a kid into the world?"
She focused back onto Kurt and the sound of the lighter, clicking over and over between his fingers.
"I suppose I'm a little nervous. I want to be a good parent."
"I didn't mean it that way. The world is a terrible place. It's full of bad people and bad things. Doesn't it make you worried to bring a child into all of that?"
Reagan contemplated Kurt's question, feeling that it delved far deeper into her conscious than anything else she'd actually thought about when preparing for her baby. She saw his point, though. They shared similar beliefs and feelings about plenty of things and that made it easier for her to see where he was coming from. The world really was a rotten place, sometimes. She had seen that much with her own two eyes.
"I'll protect them," she replied gently. "I won't let the world hurt any baby of mine. That's what any parent would do for their kid, right?"
Kurt turned his body around in his seat, finally locking eyes with Reagan. His bright blue irises were as stunning as the shining sun on a rare cloudless day, both piercing and beautiful.
"You can only protect children for so long, you know."
"Way to look on the bright side there, Kurt."
Kurt gazed downwards into his lap, turning the lighter over in his hands. "I like babies. They're innocent. It's a shame they can't stay that way."
Reagan studied him, analyzing everything from the shape of his face to the timid way he fiddled with the lighter. He maintained a decent job at seeming callous to those around him, but in a special twist of fate, Reagan saw through his facade. As she watched him, she was reminded of why she'd befriended him so easily when they had first met.
"Kurt, would you do me a favor?" she asked, resting her chin on the edge of Kurt's passenger seat. He looked expectantly at her. She was close enough to him now to smell the cigarette smoke coming off of his jacket.
"What?" His voice was wary, as if he were used to being asked for favors that he was unsure of fulfilling.
"Will you come with me and Dave to the courthouse when we get married? We need two witnesses to be there and I think you should be one of them."
Kurt sat quietly, considering her invite with a thoughtful, boyish look on his face. He flicked the lighter on once more before clasping his hand around it tightly.
"I think you'll really hurt Krist's feelings if you do that. He likes Dave a lot, you know."
"He'll understand. It's got to be you. I want it to be you."
Kurt lifted his eyes curiously. "You really want me to be there?"
"Of course I do. Dave would really like that idea too. Like you said, if it weren't for you, we wouldn't have met."
Kurt mulled over the decision before finally smiling softly. There was an essence of peace intermingled in his features as he gave Reagan an approving nod. She liked it when he smiled like that. It was easier to believe that somewhere deep down, buried beneath the avalanche of his troubles, he was happy.
"Okay," he agreed. "I'll be there."
Reagan took his hand. His palms were just as rough as Dave's, though somehow different as she squeezed her fingers through his. He squeezed back and for a moment, he seemed to forget about whatever ailment had been bothering him. His smile was authentic. A rare smile, one that he only wore when he was truly pleased.
"Thanks Kurt. I appreciate it."
"I appreciate it too."
________
The party ensued later that evening at a club called Re-bar. Reagan skidded to an astounded stop before entering the building when she assessed the presence of an overbearing swarm of musicians, journalists and other powerful figures of the industry pouring inside of the club. Dave and Krist, who were mingling in cohorts as they smuggled in an obscene amount of alcohol, herded her inside.
She could hardly piece together how she'd ended up in the midst of such a party. Only days prior, she'd been caught in the worst argument of her life with her mother and grappling with the news that she was pregnant. Everything had shifted as she stood amongst the masses of guests, holding hands with Shelli so as not to be swept away in the crowd.
They moved through the clusters of swaying bodies, saying hi and inclining their heads politely towards the strangers who acknowledged them. Reagan wondered to herself if any of them knew who she was. She didn't expect them to, but then she remembered Dave's phone call to John Silva. As an afterthought, she glanced down at her engagement ring, glinting in the colorful roving lights of the club. Maybe they did know who she was.
"Oh my god, a photo booth!" Shelli shouted happily. She dragged Reagan to a corner of the bar that was much less crowded, situated away from the heart of the party. Sitting inside the photo booth in question, much to Reagan's surprise, was a half-drunken Kurt. This did not deter Shelli's plans as she eagerly waved over Krist and Dave.
"Get in," Shelli commanded, parting the curtain. Kurt waved at Reagan sheepishly from inside, his hand wrapped around an empty drink.
"We can't all fit in there," Reagan admonished, looking back and forth between the group. "Especially not with Krist! We'll suffocate!"
"We'll survive," Dave said, already properly drunk as he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the booth. Krist and Shelli clambered in behind them, causing a fit of shrieks and laughter to break out.
"Your elbow is in my face," Reagan complained as she wriggled in Dave's lap. His fingers tightened around her waist in response, each finger deliberately pressing into the skin that peeked out above her jeans.
"I have nowhere else to put it!" Krist cried drunkenly back.
After adjusting their positions (and trying not to smash Kurt in the process, who was buried beneath them all) they took several snapshots before filing out of the booth. Shelli retrieved the photo strip and let out a long "awww," grinning as she held the strip to her eyes.
"Lemme see," Reagan said, peering at the black and white images over Shelli's shoulder. Each one became progressively goofier as her eyes moved down the line. In some shots, not everyone had managed to cram into the camera's frame. Nonetheless, Reagan laughed. "Oh my god, I love them."
"Here," Shelli smiled. She tore off the last picture from the strip, the one in which Kurt's face obscured the lower half of the frame, but Reagan and Dave could be seen grinning behind his blonde head. "This one can be yours."
Reagan held the tiny photo up closer to her face, giving it further examination before she tucked it into her jeans pocket. If such a small enough frame existed, it would have been the kind of picture that she would want to have placed at her bedside.
An hour or so passed in which Dave led Reagan around the room, holding her hand while he jabbered on to everyone who flocked to him, questions at the ready. Reagan could obviously not drink alcohol, but she was amused to see that Dave had nearly drank enough for the two of them. Twice had he slipped his hand down the backside of her jeans.
In a convoluted way that she would have never admitted out loud, it was sexy to watch Dave engage in conversation with all the professionals surrounding them both. He had a certain charm that Reagan had never seen anyone else have, a kind of charm that caused people to latch onto him and cling to every word he said. It was so easy to like Dave. The way he talked was earnest and kind and in spite of his intoxication, he never once had to fake interest in the people he spoke to. Even if he had, it wouldn't have mattered. They lapped up every word he said anyways.
When he would introduce Reagan, his voice always hitched proudly, like he was addressing the most exciting part of each conversation. She wondered if it was even possible to love him more than she already did. Even in the darkness of the club, she was able to look into his brown eyes and see a mutual adoration flowing from them.
Predictably, it did not take very long for all hell to break loose when Kurt decided to hurl a glob of ranch at Krist, whose reaction upon being hit in the face with the condiment was to throw more of it. A food fight broke out over the heads of every guest. Dave was a willing participant, but Reagan ducked, not keen on having anything close to ranch smeared in her hair.
They were unceremoniously kicked out of their own release party by security, but no one seemed to mind. Reagan gawked as Dave grasped his hand around hers while they were forced outside into the wet cold, the party doors closing on them. An earlier rain had fallen, making the pavement slick as they all staggered out onto it. Krist and Kurt were doubled over in laughter.
"We just got kicked out of our own release party!" Krist yelled triumphantly, as if it had been the crowning moment they'd waited for all night.
"Good thing, too. We've got an image to keep up," Kurt said with a smirk, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket.
There was a shout from down a nearby alleyway — someone from inside the party had opened up a window and was beckoning the band to come talk.
"Think we can sneak back in?" Krist grinned.
"Nah. I like it better out here anyways," Kurt maintained.
"Come on, let's go see if they've realized that they kicked out the hosts," Krist said, waving them all forward as he took off into the darkness of the alley like a teenager up to no good. Shelli and Kurt followed him and Reagan heard laughter ring out, but she could not detect who it had come from.
She turned to Dave as she too laughed, trying to get a breath out between her ceaseless giggling. Despite every bad thing that had happened within the last few weeks of her ever-changing life, she felt happy. Probably as happy as she had ever been. And Dave was happy too, which made for the perfect equation.
He pushed her up against the side wall of the bar, his breath fanning across her face and reeking of whiskey though she didn't mind the smell. Once he had her cornered, he ran his hands down the front of her shirt, molding his hands around her breasts. He kissed her intensely, running his tongue along hers so that she tasted traces of alcohol. She almost joked with him that the alcohol content on his breath would be enough to get her drunk, but she couldn't manage it when his hands were touching her in such a tempting way.
"I love you so much," he breathed.
"I love you too," she smiled, entertained by Dave's drunk persona. He was even more amusing when he was wasted, if that were even possible.
"Let's go back to the car," he insisted, sliding his hands up her shirt. His hands were warm as they attempted to get past the barrier of her bra. When he pressed up against her, it was easy to tell — and feel — that he was just as turned on as she thought him to be, even though he was too drunk to rationally function.
"We can't," she laughed, putting her hands on top of his and attempting to ease them down out of her shirt. "They'll come looking for us."
"Please. I want you right fucking now."
Reagan clutched his wrists and pushed them gently down, shaking her head and feeling like the only levelheaded adult within a mile range of the club. It was hard to resist him, just as it always was, but her sober mind allowed her to envision the embarrassing shit show that would arise if Kurt, Krist and Shelli found her and Dave fucking in his car.
"Later. Back at the apartment," she offered.
"Okay," he agreed incoherently, smiling lazily and pressing his face into her neck. She felt the warmth of his sigh and the tickle of his hair beneath her chin. "I love you so much."
"I love you more," she murmured. He tenderly wound his arms around her, sighing again and closing his eyes as she held him.
She should have been scared. She should have been a nervous wreck, just like she had been the other day, concerned about being pregnant, and soon to be married. And then on top of it all, her newly wedded husband would be leaving her for months, alone with a baby to carry with only the help of her sister. Anybody would have inferred that she should have been a mess in that moment.
But as Reagan held Dave close, close enough that she could almost feel his thudding heartbeat through his alcohol stained black t-shirt, she knew that she had never been happier.